Strongest Of Them All
by Raberba girl
Summary: In the Barbaric Archipelago, defective or unwanted infants are customarily sent to their deaths. Hiccup narrowly escaped such a fate.
1. Strongest Of Them All

Strongest Of Them All

(rough draft)

A DreamWorks' _How to Train Your Dragon_ fanfic by Raberba girl

Summary: In the Barbaric Archipelago, defective or unwanted infants are customarily sent to their deaths. Hiccup narrowly escaped such a fate.

A/N: Your Mileage May Vary, but I feel like I should put a warning on this fic for addressing a topic that's potentially sensitive or controversial.

o.o.o

Valka's fingers nearly crushed her husband's much larger ones as she gave one last push. Stoick patted her shoulder but watched eagerly for his first glimpse of their child.

He could barely see it there in the midwife's hands. Something didn't seem right. He knew the child was being born early, it made sense that it would be a bit smaller than usual, but _that_ small?! Was that thing even really a baby?!

Valka let out a sobbing gasp and reached for the slimy, screaming thing, digging it forcefully out of the midwife's grasp when the woman seemed reluctant to let go of it.

Stoick could still barely see the thing. Valka was cradling the newborn to her breast, one hand covering it in a shielding motion. "There, there," she cooed, "there now, love, it's all right, you made it..."

Why was she talking to it that way? Couldn't she see how small it was? Couldn't she see that after so much time and heartbreak, so many miscarriages and so much fear and hope during this pregnancy, the longest one Valka had ever managed...couldn't she see that they had still failed? "It's a runt," Stoick whispered brokenly.

"This is _our child_ ," Valka said fiercely. There was fear behind her anger, and horror rose in him as he realized that she was going to fight him on this. It was going to be hard enough even without her resistance.

"Val-"

"He's MINE!" she shouted. "He is MY SON and I _won't let him be taken from me_!"

"There's nothing else to be done with it," one of the women said impatiently. "Look how tiny and weak it is, Valka! It won't last the week, much less the winter!" They tried to take the infant out of her arms.

"Stoick!" she screamed, struggling. "Stoick, _help me_!"

He set his hands on the shoulders of the two closest women, barely refraining from jerking them away. "Take your hands off my wife," he growled.

Wide-eyed and incredulous, they obeyed their chief, falling back to watch warily. Stoick bent over his wife, who looked up at him with an expression of relief that soon changed to horror when she saw the look on his face. "Val," he said gently.

"Get away from me! _Stay away_ , don't you dare touch him!"

He lifted his hands away for a minute, trying to get her to stop shouting. "Valka, listen to me-"

" _No_ ," she snarled, looking as fierce as a dragon. "I _won't_ let you send him into the sea, he's _alive_ , Stoick, he fought so hard, give him a _chance_! If he really won't survive the winter, at least he won't take up more than a few weeks of- _No_ , Stoick, _no_ , don't touch him!" She was weeping now. "I can't! Stoick, I CAN'T! I won't do this again! I'm TIRED of watching my children die, _my children_ , Stoick, this is the only one who's ever taken a breath and he's _still breathing_ , Stoick, don't do this to him! Don't do this to ME!"

The infant had not stopped crying the entire time. By now, its wails of confusion and discomfort had risen into deafening screams. Stoick could barely think, he needed to make that noise _stop_.

"Give it to me, Valka! We'll just have to try again-"

She fought, but she couldn't stop him from taking the infant from her arms. The women held her back as she screamed after him, her wild cries following him to the door and out into the night. "Don't do this, Stoick! STOICK! No!" Then, her voice made rough with venom and grief, "If you come back without that child, _you will no longer have a wife_."

That gave Stoick pause, and more of his heart crumbled. Then he told himself that Valka would come around, she knew deep down that it had to be this way. There was no place in this dangerous, difficult life for a child who was too weak to survive. Perhaps Valka, in her anger, _would_ leave for a time, but he felt sure that eventually she would come back to him.

As Stoick picked up a wooden box and made his way down to the water's edge, the baby's nerve-wracking screams seemed to cling to him, echoing in the otherwise quiet night. Stoick found himself muttering to the infant as if it could understand him or would heed him. "Settle down, now...there's nothing to be done about it, so don't make a fuss..."

The shrieks continued unabated. Stoick pulled his cloak over the baby to muffle its cries, and was relieved when they diminished a bit.

On the rocky shore, he set the box down and laid the baby inside. As soon as it left the shelter of his cloak, its wails rose to screams again. Its naked body, shaking with cold, squirmed ceaselessly; tiny fists and feet beat at the air.

"I don't have a choice," Stoick growled. "What do you think is going to happen if I don't do this, hm? You'll soon end up in the same place, anyway. Better now than having to endure a day, perhaps a week of misery first."

He edged the box into the water and watched it begin to drift away. The baby's continued howls tore at his heart.

"Be quiet," he whispered. "Be _quiet_. What good is it to protest the inevitable-" He stopped and stared. The baby continued screaming as loudly as ever, even as it drifted farther and farther away...

He had a flash of imagination, seeing in his mind's eye the baby eventually falling still and silent with exhaustion and then with death. The child's life would fade away just as Valka's spirit was. He knew that every failed pregnancy took its toll on her, every heartbreak killed a little more of the light in her eyes...maybe this really was the last one. Maybe she really would tolerate no more grief.

And a child who protested his own death _this much_ couldn't be an entirely hopeless case, right?

Stoick splashed through the water and seized the box. He scooped up his tiny son and tucked the freezing cold babe into his tunic. He was pleasantly surprised when the child, held between the warmth of flesh and clothing, quieted its raging screams to exhausted, dull sobs.

"It's all right now, little one," Stoick murmured, curving both hands around the child's tiny form as he slogged back to dry ground. "You're a hiccup to be sure, but you're _my_ son, and Valka's as well, of course you won't let a thing like that stop you." He chuckled, even as a tear trickled down his cheek. "I should have already known that."

As he approached the house, one of the women hurried out to meet him. "Stoick, she won't let us near her. You must-" She stopped and stared at Stoick's tunic, where the baby's listless crying was emanating from. "Didn't you-?!"

"I'll see to Valka," Stoick said brusquely. He pushed into the house, and found the women clustered warily near the fire. Valka sat on the edge of a chair, gripping the back of it tightly as if she wanted to stand but did not have the strength to do so. There was an axe clenched in her other fist. When she lifted her face to her husband, her expression was full of cold fury for a moment - but then she heard her son's cries, and her eyes widened in astonishment.

"Val," he murmured.

She sobbed and dropped the weapon, stretching out her arms. He laid the baby in them, and as she snuggled her son to her breast and started trying to nurse him, Stoick picked her up carefully and carried her over to the bed. "Stoick," she whispered, her voice full of emotion.

"Chief, I don't understand," the midwife protested. "Didn't you send it out to the sea?!"

"Any babe with such a powerful set of lungs deserves a chance to keep proving his strength," Stoick declared. "This is my son and heir, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III."

"You're giving him a runt's name?" Valka protested. "He'll grow!" The babe had finally managed to latch onto her breast, his feeding bringing a blessed end to his cries.

"He _is_ a runt for now. He's already earned the right to live, but someday he'll earn a title to balance out his name."

"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock," Valka mused, as if reluctantly trying to accustom herself to the name.

"The Third," Stoick reminded her. "Hiccup the Second ended a war, and Hiccup the First was the one who discovered this island on his explorations."

"I suppose it doesn't matter what his name is as long as he's alive," Valka murmured, stroking a gentle finger across her baby's skin.

Stoick kissed her temple, circling his little family in the protection of his arms. "And he _will_ live. Forgive me, Valka. Of course our son will someday become the strongest of them all. How could he be otherwise, with parents like us?"

o.o.o

Author's Notes: In the HTTYD books, newborns who are weak or too small are supposed to be sent out to sea to die. If I remember correctly, this happened to Fishlegs (who is physically the complete opposite of DreamWorks!Fishlegs), but he ended up surviving; Hiccup was also supposed to have been abandoned at birth, but his parents broke the rules and allowed him to live.

 **Ever since HTTYD2 was in theaters, I've wondered whether what Valka said at Stoick's funeral (about him never doubting Hiccup's strength) was actually true or not, since, honestly, it seems a bit OOC for Stoick. (Based on his behavior in HTTYD1, he seems to have a 'judge a book by its cover' mentality, as opposed to his wife's and son's tendency to consider alternate possibilities. Or else, if he really did say that, maybe it was just a desperate attempt to comfort Valka whenever she was especially anxious about her fragile little baby.) It makes me think that she might possibly have exaggerated, because she saw how lost Hiccup was in that moment and how badly he needed some paternal encouragement, even if it wasn't 100% true.**

In addition, I've had this headcanon for a little while about Stoick coming close to abandoning his undersized newborn to death, before suddenly deciding to defy custom and let him live. The reason I wrote it now is because, even though I'm a long way from writing any Hiccup-returns-to-Berk scenes in _Hybrid_ , I've been thinking about them, experimenting with various ways to introduce Hiccup to his birth tribe. One of those involved my headcanon about him nearly being killed as a newborn, so I wanted to get this vignette out of the way first. (Not many people seem to be interested in _Hybrid_ anymore, the response has dropped off a lot since the first chapter... *sweatdrop* I guess their expectations have been disappointed or something.)

I've been having a reeeeaaaalllly hard time with that DWTV project... The stress and anxiety is really bad, I haven't been sleeping well, and the other day my frustration sent me into a downward spiral until I'd hit one of my "I wish I'd never been born" moods...which was probably _not_ helped by the medication I recently started taking, one of the possible side effects of which is "depressive symptoms." *sweatdrop* I should be okay in the long run, but I'll be _so_ glad when my part in this DWTV thing is over...


	2. Each Day Of Life

Each Day Of Life

(rough draft)

A DreamWorks' _How to Train Your Dragon_ fanfic by Raberba girl

Summary: Hiccup's mere existence has consequences for both his father and his tribe.

o.o.o

Hiccup had been looking forward to the Thing. Not only was it a rare chance for him to set foot off the island of Berk and see a different land with his own eyes, but he knew why Stoick was bringing him. The chief of the Hooligan tribe was grooming his heir. Ten-year-old Hiccup felt proud and honored to be included in an important gathering where the only other children would be other heirs, the people who would grow up to meet with him in the same place when their own time of rulership came.

Hiccup had been looking forward to it until he actually got there, and saw the other boys who outmuscled him and towered over him, and was shunted aside along with the sole female heir in the group as if the two of them were beneath notice, not even worthwhile as human beings much less heirs. Then Camicazi got mad at Hiccup for an unintended insult and nearly injured him before she realized that there was no glory to be gained in fighting a pitiful opponent such as himself, and then the other boys jeered at him even more for getting his butt kicked by a girl.

Hiccup, now completely alone and feeling like a complete failure, realized in that moment that he would never be a chieftain, that his sole qualification for leadership was the fact that he happened to be the son of a leader, and that if he were ever to inherit his father's throne, he would be chief in name only and have no real power. If he was going to be anything in this world, he was going to have to prove his worth in a different way. At this moment, all he wanted to do was go home and hide in his room and then figure out what to do with his life now.

It was while Hiccup was slumped on the beach, hidden behind a rocky outcrop, trying to muster up the courage to return to his father, that the Outcasts attacked.

Obviously they resented the fact that they had no voice in the Thing, and their attacks on the gathering were expected. By the time Savage had hauled Hiccup up to join Alvin and the other warriors, the standoff had started, the official chieftains and their warriors forming a bristling wall of weapons against the shouting, sword-waving Outcasts.

"...so maybe you'll see reason now that we have a bit of leverage, eh?" Alvin was saying. He turned to greet his second-in-command with a smug smile. As soon as he saw Hiccup, his expression faded to one of surprise and displeasure. "What're you doing with that fishbone, Savage?" he growled. "I sent you to catch a hostage."

"Hiccup!" Stoick had started shouting, his shock and worry sounding like anger to everyone except Gobber, who knew him best.

"Look at his clothes," Savage said, his tone defensive. "He's a chief's son."

Alvin's narrow gaze moved from the miserable, tiny boy in the fine tunic to the frantically shouting Hooligan chief. "Don't tell me... _this_ is the son of _Stoick the Vast_!"

Hiccup stared wordlessly down at his boots.

"Hah! What an embarrassment, Stoick, eh? Has he been this pitiful since birth? I'm surprised you didn't ship him off before he could become such a blight on your reputation!"

Stoick had stopped shouting. In the long silence, Hiccup lifted his head again, feeling sick when he saw that the other tribes were murmuring in shocked realization. Stoick's secret had finally been revealed outside the boundaries of Berk, that he had rebelled against custom and allowed a weak link to be counted among the members of his tribe.

It hadn't seemed so bad when Hiccup first learned the story of his birth night, he'd always been vaguely glad that he'd been allowed to live. Yet now, standing exposed under the condemnation of the rest of the Viking world, he felt keenly that he was the cause of his father's shame. He recognized the scorn on their faces for a man who was too weak of will to deserve the title of father and chief.

"Well, I really am in a pickle now!" Alvin was laughing. "I had myself all set up to make you all see reason with the help of a hostage, but what good to me is _this_ creature, eh? No one will fight for him."

Stoick whipped his axe through the air in a threatening gesture, Gobber immediately echoing him. The other Hooligans, looking uneasy and angry, brandished their weapons more reluctantly, watching their chief. "He is my son," Stoick ground out, backed into a corner but declaring that he would still fight with all his considerable strength. "Hiccup Horrendous Haddock is my son, and I would fight for him even against Fenrir himself!"

Then came a battle, after which not only the Outcasts, but also the Hooligans were routed. Hiccup huddled in the back of the ship on the way home, unable to look at anyone, feeling kind of like he should do everyone a favor and throw himself overboard. He knew it was his fault ( _'And DAD'S,'_ he added angrily in his thoughts) that the Hooligan tribe, on the verge of being outcast itself, was no longer welcome among the true tribes of the archipelago.

Stoick couldn't seem to bring himself to look at Hiccup or speak to him or come near him, and the Berkian warriors did little more than glare at the boy and complain to each other in voices they didn't bother to lower about what a mess they were in now.

Gobber was the only one who came to plop down beside Hiccup with a sigh and sling his arm around the boy's shoulders. "Ah, don't let it get to you, Hiccup. We don't need the other tribes, we can do just fine on our own!"

"I'm not supposed to be alive," Hiccup whispered.

Gobber chuckled. "Maybe not, but I'm glad you are."

"...What?"

"You're all that Stoick has left of your mother, lad."

Hiccup had a bitter thought that it didn't seem to be much of a purpose, hanging around solely to remind a man about the wife he would never see again.

"It was her, really, who wouldn't hear of it. Wanted you from the moment she laid eyes on you, didn't care how weak your little fists were."

"So it's her fault, then," Hiccup mumbled.

"'Course it was your father who hauled you all the way back from the shore to put you in her arms again. Said you had a fine pair of lungs on you and you'd screamed your right to live strongly enough."

Hiccup swallowed and hid his face against his knees.

"He said you'd be the strongest of them all. Guess he was wrong, but I still wouldn't say you're a waste of space, Hiccup. It's handy having you in the forge, you know? All that cleaning up you do, a real Viking wouldn't have the patience for it."

"I'm glad _someone's_ happy I'm not a real Viking," Hiccup mumbled into his knees.

"That's the spirit, Hiccup!" With an encouraging thump on the back that accidentally jammed Hiccup's face into the knee it was resting against, which nearly broke the boy's nose and would later form a bruise, Gobber hauled himself back to his feet and stumped away.

Back home, the villagers who hadn't attended the Thing absorbed the bad news quickly. Then they went on with their lives, working to make themselves more self-sufficient than ever as they continued defending themselves against the dragons. Hiccup was in the forge from before dawn until after dusk, doing his best to avoid speaking to anyone. The rare times he and his father both happened to be awake inside the house, they barely exchanged more than a few essential words.

Then, after several days of this, Stoick accidentally burned supper and Hiccup tried to rescue the meal in vain. Then he threw down the cloth he'd been using to shield his hands from the heat and shouted at his father, "Why didn't you kill me like you were supposed to?!"

"Would you like me to kill you now?" Stoick roared back, as if it was the middle of an argument rather than their first outburst after days of silence.

"Maybe you should! Then I'd be out of your hair and everyone would be happy again and you'd be a proper chief again and we'd be a real tribe again, once I'm GONE!"

"I'm not going to get rid of _my son_ just because a bunch of fools think they can order me around! _I_ am chief of this tribe, _my_ judgment rules in _my own_ domain, and you are STAYING!"

"Why?! What good am I?! What use am I?! I'm not a real Viking, I'm a useless heir, I'm too _weak_ to live, a chief isn't supposed to have a son who's good for NOTHING except sweeping the floor in the forge!" Hiccup turned away and flung the pot of burned food across the room so that his father wouldn't see the tears in his eyes.

It wasn't that Hiccup _wanted_ to be killed or exiled, of course. The pain that had been twisting his heart to shreds, that kept him lying awake at night and cursing himself and wishing that he just hadn't been born at all and saved everyone the trouble, was that everyone thought he _should_ be dead. That he was worthless and would never be able to achieve anything, and could accomplish nothing by his existence other than to shame his father and weaken his tribe. "I should be dead," he choked out.

When Stoick seized him, those huge hands dwarfing the boy's thin shoulders, Hiccup was startled and frightened, yet also had an urge to fling his arms around his father in a desperate embrace. He didn't actually move except to stiffen in apprehension.

"You _are_ alive," Stoick growled. "For ten years, you have survived every danger that life has thrown at you. Your generation has been cut down by dragons and fire and illness and cold and blades and starvation and the sea - there are only seven of you left. And _you are one of them_ , Hiccup. _Every day_ you survive is more proof that you are still earning the right to live, just like you did when you were less than an hour old."

Hiccup stood there trying his hardest not to cry, and Stoick's fingers tightened uncertainly as if he had no idea whether to embrace his son or not. At last, Stoick cleared his throat roughly and let go, stepping back. He managed to locate a wedge of cheese, which he trimmed a bit of mold off before cutting into two pieces, then scrounged up a couple of slightly wrinkled apples. He handed over Hiccup's share. "Eat. We'll do a better job with supper tomorrow."

"Y...Yeah."

It took years of trying to prove himself, and even more years of succeeding, before Hiccup was able to unbury those feelings of worthlessness and get rid of them for good.

o.o.o

Author's Notes: Obviously my own views are that every single human being deserves a chance to live without having to "earn" it (as in, no one should be written off as worthless just because they don't measure up to someone else's standards), but, again, I'm having to write about a culture with a different worldview than my own.

I know that Berk starts having dealings with other tribes in the TV show, but I'm under the impression that their contact with other tribes was unusually limited during the dragon war. Of course some of that was probably because of the war, but I think it's an interesting idea that Hiccup might have damaged Berk's relationship with the other tribes as well. I'm sure they started slowly repairing the damage, particularly with Trader Johann and Oswald the Agreeable, but I think we would have seen a lot more of the other tribes if relations had been restored fully. (Bog Burglaaaaars, when are you going to debut in the show...?)

Ftr, I figure that the seventh kid in Hiccup's generation that Stoick mentioned must have died at some point in the next five years, leaving the six canon fourteen-and-fifteen-year-olds that we see in HTTYD1.

After nearly two and a half weeks, I still have not settled into my new apartment, largely due to the fact that so many things were broken when I moved in and it's taking so long to get them all fixed. But I really can't go for too long without writing, so I finally sat down to write a new fanfic when I should have been working on apartment stuff. A couple of paragraphs in, the story did that thing where, what was supposed to be a line or two of casual backstory got so long and unwieldy that I realized I would need to go back and write it out as a one-shot before I could return to the original story. XD _Each Day Of Life_ is the second piece of fiction I started composing, and the first piece of fiction I have completed, in my new apartment. (Though of course I had to come to my parents' house and use their Internet connection to post it. XD)


End file.
